Could
by The Treacle Tart
Summary: SLASH - Draco takes a moment to remember before he must forget. DM-RW COMPLETE


**Notes:** Many thanks to Abigail89. You are my sunshine.

**Could **

Things could have been different.

I could have ignored the way he played chess. The way he bit his lower lip when he was concentrating. The way his brow creased while contemplating his next move and then rose quickly just before he took the queen. Here he wasn't a stumbling sidekick, a mindless sycophant. He had power. He had control.

I could have looked away as he ran his hands through his hair when he was nervous or gave a little cough before performing a spell. The little mannerisms that made him who he was, a boy standing on a threshold, eager to cross.

How alive he looked after a Quidditch match when joy radiated off a body smelling of sweat and musk. Cheeks flushed as red as his hair, blue eyes glittering with life - so colorful in an otherwise drab world.

I could have turned him away when he followed me around. Mocked him for being my shadow. Teased him for looking so hungry only when he thought no one else could see. I could have pretended I didn't know he wanted me, or better still, taunted him for wanting what he couldn't have and reminded him of his place in the world: beneath me.

I could have gotten the blood I set out for. Destroyed so easily that which was placed in my hands. Reveled in his torment, celebrated his delicious anguish.

Could have. Could have. Should have.

I could have punched him instead of kissed him. Beaten him instead of caressed him. Hated him instead of needed him. Forgotten what it felt like when his skin touched mine. Protective arms entwined around my body. Gentle hands in my hair. Head buried in my neck. Teeth leaving marks on my shoulder. Lips kissing them better.

I could have forgotten that he tastes of red: sweet strawberries, sharp wine, spice and fire.

How he revered me, worshipped me with long, languid stokes of a warm pink tongue. How he was the only one who I ever let do that, the only one I trusted enough.

I could have ignored soothing words whispered into starved ears. Words of adoration. Words of affection. Words of affirmation. Reminded myself that promises are only lies that haven't happened yet.

I could have told him the truth once during a hundred nights spent in a secret room with limbs entangled, bodies fused together. I could have held him close. Not pushed him away. I could have never said goodbye.

Someone stares at me now from a cracked mirror, a hazy reflection here to remind me who I am, and where I belong. Of my place in the world.

The sweet smell of musk and joy is replaced by the bitter scent of fate. I have lost sight of his shadow, forgotten the taste of strawberries or fire.

In the quiet of this hidden room I clasp the black, coarse robe that weighs heavily on my shoulders. My legacy. Carefully, I button away the boy I was, only to become the man I am told I should be. That man is a stranger to me, and I hope we are only in each other's company for a short time. I hope that mercy will find me and end it all before the man I am sees the boy I was… and annihilates him completely.

Whoever I was, whoever I truly was, disappeared in this very room slowly over a hundred nights. Disappeared into the sight and smell and taste of another. The one I couldn't forget no matter how hard I tried.

I prepare to leave, but pause, just once more. It is only in this quiet room that I can I allow myself one final moment of weakness. It is only in this room that I can allow myself to remember.

_The night was colder than it had ever been and darker than should be possible. He followed me to the Forbidden Forest where I ran because there was nowhere else to hide. He wouldn't leave though I mocked his presence there, his feelings towards me, his friends, his lineage, his very existence. I pulled back to punch him and he caught my fist in his hand and tenderly told me it was all right. It would be all right. His lips were on me and I hadn't the strength to push him away. Made myself believe I hadn't the strength because I couldn't possibly want that. Him._

_My fingers tore his clothes to shreds. My nails raked down his back and up across his shoulders, marking his soft skin with burning crosses. Despite my pleading hands upon him, he waited for permission to proceed and, wordlessly, I granted it and prepared for the pain I have come to associate the act. Instead, I found gentle hands and soft stokes._

_I watched more than felt his mouth explore my body, my mind unable to reconcile the warmth of some unnamed emotion slowly spreading through it with the image of him running his tongue up and down my torso. The air full of soft whimpers, of heavy hitched breaths, of moans and grunts and sobs. Anything but words, because words didn't belong._

_He held me, kissed me._

_He was all around me. Before me. Above me. Inside me. Beside me._

After a hundred nights I still can only call him Ron in this room, in our room, while 'Draco' falls freely from his lips and swallows me whole - said in adoration, in affection, in affirmation. And it is only in this darkness in which I was lost and found and lost again, only into the silence of an empty room, that can I say, "I love you, Ron."

I hold the mask of my destiny in my hand. The mask of my father. The mask of the man I don't recognize staring back at me from a cracked mirror. I hold it in my trembling hand, but I won't put it on in this room. The man who must wear it doesn't belong here. I won't let him in. Without looking back I grab the handle and open the door…and pray that I am able to forget.

But something is blocking my way.

"Things could be different, Draco."

He takes the mask from my hands before reaching over to me.

"Please…things could be different."

And with his arms around me, I think perhaps they could.

_Finis_.


End file.
